The truth hurts
by Diamond-Brit
Summary: Everyone knows about hodges, and nothing is positive. When they learn the truth however they begin to question all they know about the resident snarky bastard.
1. Chapter 1

Everyone in the lab knew or was at least aware of the infamous Hodge's rant, his egotism bubbling across the surface. Everyone knew that he held his pride to the upmost perfection, and if he saw even a speck of imperfection he would be sent into a tizzy. The cleaners knew, the guards knew and even the criminals who were the definition of scum, knew that you never ever wanted to be on the receiving end of one, that is if you wanted to last the night without murdering someone. He would get this giddy gleam in his eyes, sadistic happiness coating his drawn out face. It was the only time emotion ever graced his being, and while it was a burden for all it was a normal occurrence for everyday life. So you can just imagine the confusion that began when it all just stopped.

The night was young, cold air flowing through the lab entrance, the smell of the fresh night pooling into the lobby. It was clam, peaceful and silent, such a rare thing for a crime lab. However the peace was soon broken as the team returned from their case.

"Nick come one man stop!" Greg grumbled as the Texan man gripped him around the neck, his fist rapidly running across his skull, digging into the tough bone.

"No can do Greggo, you lost the bet so ya gotta pay up," he grinned as he continued his assault, knuckles digging deeper and deeper. "speaking of which," he stopped softly pushing the shorter man to the side, causing him to stumble, "you have to bring the trace to Hodges!" he laughed as he sped down the hall throwing a grin at the disgusted look that graced Greg's face.

"Come on! Don't send me to my death!" his plead fell on death ears, and with a halfhearted moan he shuffled towards the trace lab, his cheery attitude quickly flowing back to live. But as he reached the lab he stopped short, his face _drawing_ the perfect image of confusion. There seating perfectly still, hands softly cupping his face was Hodges, but not the Hodges Greg, nor the lab knew. His shoulders were shaking, soft sobs escaping him as he buried his head. Beside him was a small flip phone, the screen blaring with a name, and the heart breaking voice echoing through the speaker.

"I'm...so...so...sorry"

He remained still, unable to ruin this image, this image of sheer depression. As sick as the it was, it made Greg happy, a tiny bit happy, to finally see the perfect mask crumble. To see him human. The moment ended, however, when a flash of flesh peaked through the lab coat covering the broken form. A scar so long and so faded, was wrapped around the delicate wrist, circling around before continuing up his sleeve. It was old, that much was clear, but how had it happened? When had it happened? Well that was another thing entirely.

"Greg?"

He jumped as Grissom's sounded from behind him, spinning around to sheepishly grin at his boss. "Yeah?" he asked toeing the ground beneath him, acting the mirror image of a child caught stealing from the cookie car.

"Why are standing outside Hodges lab? Shouldn't you be working?" Grissom's eyebrow climbed into his hair line, gazing as Greg stumbled over his reply.

"I...I...the results...for the thing," he threw them into his boss' hands, before turning rapidly turning around, signing in relief as he notice Hodges resuming his work, no trace of fear nor pain gracing his features. He stumbled into the locker room, dropping himself onto the bench, hands flying to cup his head, unknowing mincing Hodges only seconds before. What could cause him so much pain? What could bring the great emotionless man to fall so much? Whatever it was, he was going to find out, if only to cure his sudden case of curiosity.

-–-

The night drew to a close, the evidence packed tightly away, awaiting the day shift workers to restart the process. Each unoccupied lab was locked, lights switched off and sealed away into the morning light. The graveyard shift was coming to a close, for all but one of its members. The trace lab was still open, the machines still running and the owner still working. His face sunken with exhaustion, bags pillowing below his eyes, and sweat glistening around his brow. He was sat there staring at the machines, simple waiting for the answers to come, he needed to know, perhaps it wasn't the safest, nor the smartest way of achieve answers, but at this single moment in time he was tired of being smart, tried of creating this image and tired of hiding. The machine beeped, the sample had been read, the answer blaring at his through the small, thin screen. The red words screaming to him, 'No Match'. It smacked him across the face, sending him into a ball of a sobbing mess, his head bowing as he curled his body in, unable to gaze at the screen. She was right, she had always been right, he hadn't wanted this, never had he wanted to know this truth. But now that it was out there, there was no denying the truth that spoke out to him.

He was a lie, his whole life a fabrication, created by two desperate individuals. He wasn't him, he was merely a replicate of what was once lost, a fake, an imposter, a disappointment. Now it all made sense, the snide comments, the sideway glances, the pain. He wasn't what they wanted, nor what they hoped, just a shell of what could of been. His mother had lied, told what was wanted, not what was needed. Not what he needed.

His eyes fell on the fallen phone, the display softly flickering as the battery dimmed. His mind flew to to the conversation that started it all, that was only a few hours ago, one that had destroyed his life in a blink of an eye.

Flashback

_"What!?" he snapped as his phone pulled him from his work, he needed to examine the fibres, and couldn't afford a miscalculation. He slammed the cover open and barked into the phone, anger radiating through his core._

_ "David?" a small, soft voice broken his anger, leaving him shocked and broken. His voice cutting off as tears glistened beneath his lashes._

_ "Gabriella?" he asked, fear gripping his voice, pain leaking through each word._

_ "He's gone David, oh god he's gone~" she broke off, the sound of her sobbing bouncing through the speakers, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps._

_ "What do you mean?"_

_ "It's dad...he's heart stopped...last night. He just fell over, not breathing, not moving. Dead. There isn't a funeral, he's just gone."_

_Hodges drew back, his head slamming against the window, his fingers shaking as he gripped the cordless phone. He couldn't, he just couldn't be dead. It wasn't possible, it wasn't true._

_ " David...there's something else, something mu- Olivia asked me to tell you..."_

_She didn't call her mum, she used her name, she only did that when she was pissed. This was bad news, he dropped his head, cupping his skull in his thin palms. _

_ "You're not his~" _

_Those three words stopped him short, his body freezing as he gazed at the phone. No...no it couldn't be..not that..not that._

_"You're lying!" he yelled smashing his hand across the desk, knuckles spitting as the pain radiated up. His back hunched as he screwed up his eyes, unwilling to see the truth._

_ "I'm not, but oh god do I wish I was. You don't believe me do you? Of course you don't...you still have mums locket yeah? The one she gave you as a baby? It has his hair in it, test it, see if I'm lying. But I swear to you I'm not. I'll call back in an hour... I love you baby brother" _

_The line clicked off, leaving him in silence, his eyes shining with fresh tears, his face so open and unguarded. Grunting, he pushed aside his collar, throwing the phone to the side, before pulling out the locket, mother always wanted another girl. And with that single gift his whole life was turned around. _

End flashback

Hodges pulled himself out of his memories. Only now noticing the time, cursing he gathered his possessions and flicked off the machines, slamming shut the door that held every ounce of his break down. He bypassed the staff, shielding his face from their view, unwilling to show his vulnerable side, unable to face their pity.

And as he ran to his car only one thought graced his mind, who the hell am I?


	2. Chapter 2

The corpus was mutilated, the skin peeling back expose weak, worn out bones. The body was beheaded, the neck sliced with imperfection, the blade slicing in too many directions to count. The head was thrown to the side, unseeing eyes basking in the sun, unable to turn away from the gruesome sight, forced to forever see it's mangled body.

A green faced rookie was standing above the body, his face tinged with sickness, his stomach churning forwards and back, swirling his already consumed dinner around in circles. His hands clutched a thin, sleek pistol, the sight positioned directly at the corpses face, as though waiting for it to spring back up and attack. The cop was alone, the CSIs had not yet arrived, having only received the call ten minuets ago, leaving the newbie face to face with the devastating reality that was death.

A commotion drew his attention away, his eyes snapping towards the police tap, an individual stood inches away from the tape, his phone pressed to his face, voice screaming down the speaker. Gulping, he stayed glued to the corpus unwilling to move out of its sight, but kept an eager ear out.

"What the hell is this about? What are you playing? No way in hell am I working with that guy." he received no reply, the voice on the other end cutting off. He slammed his phone shut and turned on his heel, face streaked with anger. He stalked towards the body, ducking under the tape and throwing a intense glare at the newbie. "I can't believe that guy!" he kicking the ground sending gravel to the side. "like hell that guy's qualified to do this shit.."

The newbie kept silent, years of living under the same roof as five older brothers had taught him a thing or two. Whenever someone was pissed off, you stayed out of the way, unless you wanted some of the fury to be brought onto worked in silence, the only sound being that of the camera as the CSI snapped away photos. It was soon disturbed, however, when a run down hummer pulled into the scene.

"Ah so the princess arrives! Shall we escort you to the body or can your little feet carry you by themselves!" the CSI snapped, stalking towards the driver, flinging open the door before pulling out the startled man.

"I'm not in the mood Davis, so if you could?" the face was drawn, exhaustion clouding every pore. It was Hodges, a police vest thrown over his normal clothing. His eye closed as he nudged past Davis, his hands shaking as he gripped his borrowed kit.

"When are you in the mood Dave?" Davis slammed his hand across his chest, pushing the startled lab tech back, face inches away from his. "here's the deal, you keep your trap shut and do exactly as I say, I don't want no of those rant nor any of your smug bastard crap, got it?" he thumped him across the back, causing him to stumble.

"I-I got it-" Hodges uncharacteristically stuttered, before softly walking towards the crime scene. His ego nowhere in sight. He got to work, collecting blood, collecting fibres all the while remming silent, and if he found the lost locket, well there was no need to draw attention.

It was going surprisingly perfectly, so is was no shock when the pleasant silence was shattered. The hummer had been silent, no sound was heard, and the drive was filled with tension, it pulled out in front of the crime lab, both occupants still, their kit repacked and their evidence gathered. The stepped out of the car, Davis slamming shut the door, his fingers white as he tightly held the kit. He shoved the evidence into Hodge's arms, the box digging into his pale arms.

"Give this to Grissom!" he barked, eyes flickering to the side, unease filling his body.

"Okay-" it was the tip of the iceberg, that single, softly spoken word that broke his control.

"Shut the fuck up!" Davis yelled drawing the attention of the nearby officers. He grunted at the shocked looked that grace the techs face, "I've had it! Stop acting like you're normal! Stop looking so wounded! What is your fucking game? There must be something in it for you, or else you would be acting like the prick that you normally are!" he lost control, striking his fist out, connecting with Hodge's cheek sending him spiralling towards the ground, the evidence flying out of his grasp.

Everyone was watching, the entire night shift radiating with undeniable glee, it wasn't everyday you saw Hodges get what was coming to him. Davis stood above him, body shaking with adrenaline, his fists closing and opening as he gazed at the crumbled form below. He dove forwards, all restraint gone. And slammed his fist into the lab techs stomach, cutting of his air with an audible gasp. His body curling inwards to try and stop the flow of abuse. Just as the final blow was about to connect a large arm wrapped around Davis, slamming him into a solid wall of muscle.

"Davis what the fuck man?! Leave off!" Warrick's thick frame stopped the flying fist, brining the frenzy to a stop. Davis was heaving, his breathe sharp as he gulped in air, chest expanding quickly. His fist were bloody, knuckles cracked flowing with a steady trail of blood. Davis collapsed all fight quickly leaving him, leaving him limp like a rag doll. Hodges remained on the ground, fingers tenderly pushing against the bruised lip, blood staining his fingers. Davis shrugged Warrick off, kicking the ground before storming off, his body drawn in as if waiting for danger.

"You okay man?" Warrick glanced down at the lab tech, grimacing as his eyes flew across the quickly developing bruise. He through out a hand, only for it to be smacked to the side, the lab tech now stumbling to his feet.

"_I'm fine!"_ he snapped, bending down to retrieve the scattered evidence, luckily still within its packaging. He roughly pushed past Warrick before eyeing the group of on lookers. Rather than bit back, which was unusual for him, his eyes remained glued to the floor, his feet quickly taking him through the mass of bodies.

"Did you see that?". "Holy fuck that was amazing!" "Fuck I wish I had done that!"

The group broke out in mummers, grins stretching across their faces, glee evident in there eye.

"Why'd you stop it Warrick?" A young tech questioned, eyes wide as he grumbled with disappointment.

"Because he was beating the guy into oblivion! Just 'cause he's annoying don't make that right." He received no answer only guilty streaked face, before they quickly retreated careful to not anger him further. As they left Warrick was left standing at the small pool of blood, eyes downcast as he gaze along the ground.

"What the hells happenin' with you man?"


End file.
